Adapted from Loreena McKennit's
The HighwaymanThe GalliardThe wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon the cloudy seas
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor
And the Galliard came running, running, running
The Galliard came running, up beside his girl.
He'd a Fianna rune on his forehead, a few blue dots on his chin,
A twisting of Gaelic symbols, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
He fitted with always a smile; his voice lit up the sky!
And he ran with a jewelled twinkle,
His green irises a-twinkle,
His green irises a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
Over the stones he clattered and clashed across the Bawn,
And he nipped at his septmates playfully, but all was locked and barred;
He strummed a tune on his guitar, and who should appear right there
But his beloved blue-eyed packmate,
Ari, his beloved packmate,
raising her voice to join him as they marched through the cold air.
"One kiss, my bonny packmate, I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the wounded Garou before the next attack;
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the fight,
Then look for me by the moonlight, watch for me by the moonlight,
I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though the Wyrm shall bar the way.
He rose upright on his haunches; he licked meekly at her hand
But she loosened her hair in the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of the perfume came tumbling over his nose;
And he sniffed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet waves in the moonlight!)
He turned his head in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.
He did not come at the howl; he did not come as she fell,
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
The Septmates all went marching, marching, marching
Gaia’s wolves came marching, up to the Calum door.
They said no word to the master, they fought his bane instead,
But he gagged their Theurge and dragged her right through the Earth;
They stole her to the Wyrm’s realm, with weapons at her side!
there was death at every passage, hell at one passage;
For Ari could see, down the hallway,
The path that he would run.
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had bound the weapon beside her, with the edge beneath her breast!
"now keep good watch!" And they kissed her.
She heard her packmate say
"Look for me by the moonlight, watch for me by the moonlight
I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though the Wyrm shall bar the way!"
She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness and the hours crawled by like years!
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight, cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The weapon at least was hers!
Arooo! Had they heard it? The lupine howl rang clear
Arooo, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The Galliard came running, running, running!
The Spirals looked to their priming!
She stood up straight and still!
Aroo in the frosty silence! Aroo, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment! She drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight, her scream shattered the moonlight,
Shedding her blood in the moonlight and warned him with her death.
He turned; he spurred to the west; he did not know she stood
bowed, with her head o'er the weapon, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it; his face grew grey to hear
How Ari, his beloved packmate, his beloved blue-eyed packmate,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
And back, he spurred like a madman, howling a curse to the sky
With the white road smoking behind him and his muzzle brandished high!
Blood-red were his claws in the golden noon; bright-red was his fluffy coat,
when they tore him down on the Wyrm-realm, down like a dog on the Wyrm-realm,
And he lay in his blood on the Wyrm-realm, with a burned spoon at his throat.
Still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon, tossed upon the cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A Galliard comes running, running, running,
A Galliard comes running, up beside his girl.
[Yeah. I know it was fudged. But I did it in like... ten minutes and it was fun
]
Topic: Rock on (RATC edition) (Read 1964 times)